


"Any spare change?"

by BrowFlick92



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Homeless Derek, Hurt/Comfort, Lonely Stiles, M/M, Minor Violence, lots of coffee
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-26
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-01-20 21:48:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1526918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrowFlick92/pseuds/BrowFlick92
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So... It can't hurt to give the homeless guy a couple of dollars can it?<br/>Or buy him a coffee?<br/>Or fall completely and hopelessly in love with him? </p><p>In which Stiles is a wonderful person and Derek is in need of that in his pitiful life right now...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my second attempt at a Sterek fic! Unbeta'd and apologies now for any Britishisms that may slip out!  
> Keep an eye on the tags, as they're likely to change with the progression of the story!
> 
> This was inspired by a story my mum told me. Her friend buys the homeless guy near her office a coffee and breakfast everyday and sits and has a chat with him. It was so sweet and fluffy that I couldn't resist!  
> Enjoy!

Stiles burst through the doors of the coffee shop, phone glued to one ear, earning himself a few odd looks from the customers. He'd never been here before, it had only opened recently, and he usually just had coffee at home. However, this morning called for a trip to the coffee shop, like no other had in a very long time. “I'm in the coffee shop now. I'll be there in about twenty minutes. Yes, I know how thin it's cutting it, but there is no way you, or anyone else needs me showing up with no caffeine, Erica. I'll be there on time, don't worry.” He hung up on his colleague and hurried to the counter.

The most delicious looking muffins were staring at him and Stiles licked his lips in appreciation. He knew that he shouldn't, but after this morning, Lord how he wanted... How he outright deserved. Plus, how bad could a Pumpkin-Ginger muffin be? Natural ingredient muffins were totally allowed and acceptable. He decided it was definitely going to happen, and skimmed through the menu board on the wall. They had so many variations of coffee, that he decided on a standard medium latte. The multiple choices were making his head hurt 

Whilst waiting in the queue, Stiles mused over the horrific events of the morning, that had led him to braving a coffee shop. He didn't usually go to them. He knew how he liked his coffee, and he wasn't a fan of spending a ridiculous amount of money on something that he could make himself, for half the price. And often tasted better than the burnt crap he was used to getting from these kind of places. But after having spilled his entire pot of coffee over himself this morning, and having to suffer through a second sub-zero temperature shower (due to a very broken boiler), then having to pick between a tie with Einstein, a fish or a dick on it (It was laundry day, he only had joke ties that were clean okay? - Einstein won) Now he was stressing over work, and thinking of possible catastrophic ways his presentation could go wrong today. 

“Good morning, what can I get for you today?” said the (rather attractive) barista, waking him out of the most miserable day-dream in the history of day-dreams. Stiles quickly rattled off his order to the guy, whilst getting partially lost in his blue eyes. “Can I take a name for the order?” The guy asked, with an adorable little smile on his face.

“Er...Stiles,” Stiles replied after almost an embarrassingly long time, it was hardly his fault if he got a little caught up in the guys eyes. 

"Brilliant," the barista replied and quickly jotted down Stiles' name on a piece of paper and handed it to the girl at the drinks machine. "That'll be $4.95 please," Stiles dug into his jacket pocket and handed $5 over the counter. He noticed the tag on the guys shirt, it read 'Isaac' which stupidly suited him. A gorgeous name on a gorgeous guy. Unlike him, who had an unpronounceable name on an unremarkable guy. "Thank you, Stiles," the guy said as he handed the change back, "Hope to see you in here again soon." Which pretty much solidified Stiles now coming here twice a week before work. 

"Thanks, I'm sure you will." He replied before making his way to the end of the counter to collect his order. He still had another bus to get on before he made it to the office, but knew there was a short cut down the side of the coffee shop so he wasn't too worried. And he could eat the muffin on the bus, so there would be no evidence by the time he got to the office. Thus, no reason for Lydia to yell at him for not sticking to the plan. Everybody was a winner. 

"A latte and a muffin for Stiles?" Asked the girl behind the counter. Stiles smiled at her, nodded and took the food.

He took a sip of the latte on his way out of the door, and was blown away by how amazing it was. It wasn't anything like the coffee shops that everybody seemed to go to all of the time. It wasn't just a standard cup of coffee. It was bliss. And that pretty much solidified Stiles coming here at least three times a week. 

He hurried down the little alley way down the side of the shop, careful not to spill his coffee everywhere. Knowing that if that happened, he'd just go home and get back into bed. He rushed through so quickly in his effort to catch his bus and not be any later to work than humanly possible, that he didn't notice the bundle of clothes, coats and cardboard boxes, covering a sleeping form in it's attempt to keep warm from the autumn chill.

***

After what seemed like the longest bus journey to end all bus journeys (Made marginally better by the most delicious muffin in existence), Stiles finally made it to the office. He ran to his cubicle, where Erica was impatiently waiting for him. "Where the hell have you been?" She demanded, "In fact I don't even care, the point is you're late. We don't have any time to go over the presentation now." She humpfed at him. Stiles knew she had good reason to be upset, they were presenting their idea to the higher ups today for the new tea company they were hoping to land. If their bosses liked their idea enough, then they'd be working on the account. Like properly working, rather than all the little bits that nobody really wants to do. And now, as if it wasn't stressful enough, they now didn't have time for one last run through. In hind sight, he should have picked a muffin up for Erica to apologise. She had a major weakness for blueberry.

She was looking at him, with one eyebrow raised and tapping her ridiculously high for an office environment heeled foot on the floor. "Well?!" She barked.

"I'm sorry," he whimpered. (He was man enough to admit that Erica scared the ever living shit out of him, let alone when her fury was actually targeted at him) "You don't even understand the morning I've had."

She looked deeply into his face, "Well, I think I can get the gist of things when you're late, had to have coffee from a coffee place and you show up wearing, what can only be described as the most offensive item of clothing you own." He hastily looked down at himself in utter horror, panicking that he'd put the tie with dicks on instead of Einstein. She breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the familiar face looking back at him. Erica obviously meant offensive in the fact that it's not very fashionable, not because there were cartoonified penises dotted around it. Erica sighed from where she was towering above him. "Look Stilinski, take ten minutes to get yourself together. I'll go and set things up." She squeezed his shoulder on her way out.

Stiles say there for a moment, and just breathed. He needed to get this account. It would mean so many things, and not just because of the thousands of dollars he spent at college to get here. It would mean he'd finally be earning enough so he didn't have to keep tapping his dad for money every now and again. He'd finally do his dad proud and be successful at his chosen career like what his mum wanted. And most importantly, he'll prove to himself that he can make it out here. That a boy from a tiny little town can make it by himself in the big, wide world. He could do this. He knew that he was creative enough, and being paired with Erica helped, because she was just as, if not more creative than himself, and even more determined. He knew they could do this. This is what they were born for. He took a deep steadying breath, and stood up.

He marched through the office, not even stopping when he saw Lydia. She understood when he got like this anyway. Erica had already set up the boards in the meeting room, and was in the process of laying the briefs on the table when he got in. "Okay, I'm ready to totally smash this." He said, a grin spread across Erica's face.

"I know," she practically sang.

Stiles had just finished pouring out a glass of water for everyone who would be attending when they started to pile in through the door. He felt his stomach drop with nerves and looked over to Erica, who no longer wore a sassy smirk, but now looked as nervous as he felt. This was a big thing for them. The lowly interns giving their ideas to the partners of the firm to hash out, and possibly present it to the head of the account as their new ad campaign. So yeah, pretty big.

He joined Erica at the front of room, and met her gaze. "We can do this, Erica. We've been planning for this moment since our first day. We're going to get it." He grabbed her hand, "We can do this."

***

Stiles was almost skipping home when he got off of the bus. The presentation had gone fantastically. Better than either he or Erica could ever imagine. Everybody seemed to be very intrigued by their idea, saying it was "Simple, just effective" and "Appropriate and touching". He was over the moon with how it had gone. He and Erica had been able to answer all questions without a second hesitation and were able to have a few jokes with everyone, which is always a good thing in those sort of situations. They were both exceedingly happy with everything. Of course they wouldn't find out if their's was the campaign the firm would run with, but Stiles was pretty sure they had a pretty decent chance.

He cut back through the coffee shop alley way he'd used that morning, trying to decide if he could go for another cup. And decided he would, but one of the syrupy flavoured one this time. Like hazelnut. He didn't care if he was the only person he knew of who liked that flavour. It was like sipping a little bit of Ambrosia if done correctly. The wind had picked up a little and Stiles pulled his coat slightly tighter around himself. Yeah, a good hot cup of coffee would be wonderful right now. A little treat for his presentation surpassing all of his expectations and something to warm him a little. He smiled to himself. Perfect.

As he got to the middle of the little alley way, something caught at the corner of his eye. He turned and saw a hulking figure, cramped over to the point where it was almost unrecognisable as a human shape. Stiles stopped in his tracks, squinting slightly. He wasn't sure what to do here. Should he stop and make sure that this person was okay, or just leave them be? 

He decided with the former, he couldn't live with himself if that person was injured or, heaven forbid, anything worse. "Hello?" He apprehensively asked, whilst slowly approaching the figure. "Are you okay?" There was a faint grunt in reply. "Sorry? I didn't quite catch that," he replied. He was just about in touching distance by now, and the figure slowly lifted it's head.

"Any spare change?" asked an incredibly gruff voice that sounded like it hadn't been used in far too long. Stiles looked down and met the figure's eyes. They belonged to a man, difficult to try and decipher the age of, due to the out of control beard on his unwashed face. He had a worn woolly hat on, and was bundled up in numerous items of clothing in an attempt to try and stay warm. He looked like he hadn't had a proper nights sleep in far, far too long and was in desperate need of a hot bath and a warm bed. Although Stiles was able to take all of this in, nothing really affected him more than the man's eyes. The colour was totally indescribable. Caught somewhere between green, brown, hazel, gold and amber. They were possibly the most stunning eyes Stiles had ever seen. Only, they had so much pain and suffering in them. Stiles could see that this man had more to this story than the typical 'drug' story that is the common assumption as to why people end up homeless. And Stiles didn't know why, but an overwhelming, undeniable urge overcame him just then, to find out this man's story, and help him any way he was able. 

Stiles jumped and caught himself. He'd almost got lost inside of those eyes. "Er, sure." he stuttered out and dug inside his pocket. "Only a couple of dollars I'm afraid." He said as passing the money over to the other man. He noticed the little crescent moons of dirt under the mans nails. "Are you okay? You looked like you were in pain or something." He asked.

The man was looking at the few dollars in his hand as if it held the all the answers in the world. "I'm fine. Just cold." He looked up at Stiles. "Thank you." And Stiles' breath caught. That was, with out a doubt, the singular most sincere thanks he had ever received.

Stiles hummed slightly and took off without a backwards glance, not knowing how the man watched him disappear around the corner at the mouth of the alley.

He walked through the double doors and walked to the counter in long strides. "Hi, can I have two large lattes please? And one with 3 pumps of hazelnut syrup?" He asked the guy behind the counter, that he was shocked to find the lack of disappointment of it not being the cutie from this morning. Who, if he were to be honest had occupied a lot of his thoughts throughout the day.

"No problem, can I take a name?" he asked Stiles.

"Yeah, put it down as... Batman." He didn't know why he chose that instead of his name. But something told him that he should introduce himself to this guy properly. Not by him reading his name of a paper cup.

Stiles handed over his card as he gave the last of his cash to the guy in the alley. He waited as patiently as he could for the drinks, but was on the verge of getting antsy and rushing them. Shortly, but not soon enough in his opinion, Stiles was making his way back to the alley way with his pockets full of sugar and stirrers and his hands full off coffee cups.

"Hey," he called out as he drew closer. The bundle lifted it's head once more and zeroed in on the cups in Stiles' hands. "I got you a coffee, hopefully it'll help warm you up a bit." Stiles shrugged lightly. "Mind if I join you?" He asked. The only reply was a slow, stunned nod. Stiles slid down the wall the guy was leaning against, heedless of the damage it might've caused to his coat. "Here you go," he said whilst trying to hand the coffee over. "It's not going to bite," he joked. But inside he knew that this guy must simply be confused. Stiles wasn't an idiot. He knew most people didn't buy homeless people food or drink. They ignored them. Pretended they didn't exist in their little world. They were nothing but bad smells and wastes of space. But then, those people were assholes.

The guy took it carefully, "Why?" he croaked, and that just about broke Stiles' heart.

"Why not?" He replied, "Plus, it's getting cold. You could do with something to warm you up."

The guy looked at him, and then the cup he was holding in both hands, letting it's warmth soak into him. "Well, thanks... Batman?" He read off the cup in confusion.

Stiles chuckled slightly. "The name's Stiles," he said offering his hand "and you're more than welcome..."

The other guy took Stiles' hand in a handshake, "Derek." He croaked. And Stiles could just about make out a small, private smile, hidden somewhere in the depths of that beard. "Nice to meet you, Stiles. And honestly," he paused and swallowed. "Thank you."

And that pretty much solidified Stiles going to that coffee shop everyday.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meh... Who needs to revise for exams or start an essay until the day before it's due anyway?
> 
>  
> 
> Seriously though, thank you all so much for the kudos and comments! :D

“And Good morning listeners. That was Harry with the news. Scary stuff guys, make sure you keep your wits about you at night and be safe. And, if you've just tuned in this beautiful October morning, boy do we have a treat for you. A special guest will be joining us in the studi-” Stiles cut off the overly cheery voice emanating from his radio before he threw it at the wall.

“Shut up,” he mumbled into his pillow. The stations 'special guest' could go and fuck themselves for all Stiles cared that morning. It was getting to the time of the year where he woke up and left the house when it was dark, and left work and got home when it was dark. He wanted to protest this by staying in bed for as long as he possibly could. He burrowed himself back down into the duvet, hoping that it would latch onto him and not let him leave. Work be damned.

He heard the coffee machine turn on in the kitchen, and shortly after the wondrous smell hit his nostrils. Okay, maybe he could get out of bed, just to shuffle to the kitchen. Purely for a coffee. Then he could get back in bed, he reasoned with himself. It was a typical morning, Stiles always took an extra twenty minutes from waking up, to actually being awake and able to function enough to do the everyday morning tasks. He smiled imagining the taste of it on his lips, steadily becoming more alert. Yes. He needed a coffee, desperately. Like the utterly delicious one he had yesterday morning.

His eyes bugged open as he remembered yesterday. Now conscious enough to recall yesterdays events. The dreadful morning, the beautiful coffee, the presentation, the rest of his day at work being on a high because of the presentation. And, of course Derek. God, how could he have forgotten so easily? He spent ages yesterday, sat with Derek, sipping their coffees, having a chat about mundane things, like their favourite time of year (Stiles' was actually autumn, he loved the colours. Derek's was summer, he loved being warm.), Stiles had babbled about work, and films that he wanted to see. He spoke a little about his dad and Scott. Not a word was mentioned about why Derek was homeless. It wasn't Stiles' place to ask. Yet.

Derek didn't say much, enough to keep the conversation going though. It had been pleasant, and Stiles had truly enjoyed himself. He didn't have any real friends here yet. He had the guys at work, but he wasn't sure if they had crossed the line from colleagues to friends yet. So it was nice to spend the evening chatting to someone, who wasn't on the other end of a phone of computer screen.

Eventually though, he'd had to leave Derek. And he felt retched doing so, he wanted to invite him back to his place and feed the guy some food. But he knew Derek would never accept. Not until they had built a proper relationship where they equally trusted one another. No, Stiles had decided he would wait until they were firm friends. He had promised Derek he would be back today, and although Derek had said that he looked forward to it, Stiles could see the skepticism in his eyes. He knew Derek didn't think he'd be back, which prompted Stiles even more (if that were at all possible), to show up.

He practically leaped out of bed, something he hadn't done since he was about fourteen years old and galloped straight to the bathroom for a shower. He'd prove himself to Derek. He'd prove that there are still decent people out there who are capable of giving a damn. 

***

Derek was huddled up, hugging his knees in his typical position. Last night had been the coldest one yet, he'd never been so thankful for people leaving bags of clothes out the front of charity shops. He felt incredibly bad for taking them. But it was before they were taken into the shop, so technically it wasn't really stealing. Plus, he needed the extra layers. There was simply no denying that. This alley-way provided quite a great deal of shelter for him too. It had a slight roof to keep the rain off, and a corner for him to sit behind, which shielded him from the howling, bitter wind.

It was unusual for him to be awake this time of day. He typically slept for as long as he possibly could. It helped the days pass away and allowed him to escape from his pitiful reality for a bit longer. He was only awake now because of one reason. And that reason came in the form of a suit-wearing, coffee-buying, whiskey eyed young man.

If Derek were to be completely honest with himself, he didn't truly believe that Stiles would show up again. Stiles had bought him a coffee, had a little chat with him and made himself feel like a better person for doing so. But Derek couldn't help but hope that the young man would show up again. It was nice having someone take their time out of their day, to give him a little bit of company. He was so used to being completely ignored or treated like leper. Stiles wasn't like that though. He had treated Derek like he was an actual human,which is something that hadn't happened in a frighteningly long time.

Derek looked down at his wrist. Stiles had said he's be here before he had to leave for work, so Derek was to expect him at about eight. He knew the watch he wore wouldn't tell him the time. It hadn't worked for about as long as he could remember, but it was still a force of habit to look down at it. He would never get rid of it. It was the only possession he had that had come with him from his old life, and onto the streets. No matter how much it was worth, it would stay with him.

Derek could hear the traffic in the distance beginning to pick up, rush hour was starting, and still no sign of Stiles. He knew he was stupid to hope he'd show up again, but he couldn't help it. He shook his head and chastised himself for being so idiotic as to hope. He knew how dangerous that feeling could be, for more than one reason. He hunkered down on himself once more, thoroughly telling himself off. He was a nothing but a fool. He had known what yesterday was, but still... The look of honest in those eyes when he said he'd be back today had almost convinced Derek. Had allowed him to look forward to it. Fool.

He had shut his eyes, praying for sleep to claim him again when he heard footsteps approaching. He felt his body tense, hoping against hope that they belonged to a certain someone, but knowing how slim the chances were. He held himself perfectly still, waiting for them to pass by, yet desperate for them to stop.

“Morning,” came a familiar voice, and Derek felt his shoulders relax and drop slightly. “Are you actually awake?” it asked.

A large smirk pulled across Derek's face. That was definitely Stiles. He had come back. “Yeah,” he mumbled into his blankets, and slowly lifted his head to look at him. He looked slightly more put together than he did when Derek saw him yesterday. His tie looked appropriate for office wear, his hair was styled and he had an aura of being well rested and stress-free. “Morning,” he croaked.

“I got you another coffee.” Stiles said as he parked himself down next to Derek once more. Derek gratefully took it, remembering how the one from yesterday had warmed him from his very core. Stiles dug into his coat pocket and produced a few sachets of sugar. “Got you some sugar too,”

“Thanks Stiles,” he replied. And it came from the very bottom of his heart. He was so very happy that Stiles had come back. “Did you have a good night?” he asked and took a sip of his coffee.

Stiles flashed him a grin, that warmed Derek about as much as much as the coffee. It was so nice to be able to simply chat with someone again. “Yeah thanks, didn't do much really, a bit of laundry, more prep for work and vegged in front of the T.V for a bit.”

Derek nodded in reply, “Anything good?”

The tips of Stiles' ears began to turn red, “Er, not really.” He looked at Derek and Derek tilted his head in question. Stiles huffed out a breath, “Fine,” He flailed his arms a bit, spilling some of his coffee on his pants leg. “Shit!” He rubbed at it, “That better not stain,” he looked back to Derek. “If you tell anyone I'll have to kill you.” he threatened.

Derek scoffed in reply, “Please! Who am I going to tell exactly? Maybe the dumpster?”

A frown darkened Stiles' features at that, as though he didn't didn't like to hear Derek talk like that. He shook himself slightly. “I'm kind of obsessed with QVC. I've never bought anything, but I love watching it. If my T.V is on, you can bet your ass it'll be that that's on it

Derek grinned at him. “Is that all? I was expecting a secret obsession with something like SpongeBob!”

“What's wrong with SpongeBob?” Stiles demanded, and Derek burst out laughing.

“Nothing,” Derek hastily replied. He found himself grinning again. It was odd for him to be smiling so much, before yesterday, he couldn't remember the last time he truly smiled.

“Damn straight,” Stiles huffed. He started digging in his pockets and produced his phone. “Oh, shit. I have to leave for work now. What are you doing today?” He hesitantly asked, as if he almost didn't want to hear the answer.

“Oh, the usual. Sit here for a bit, maybe take a walk, have a nap... That's not much really for me to do.”

Stiles wore what could only be described as a scowl on his face at that news. He reached back into his pocket and produce some money. “You're at least getting yourself some lunch,” he stated.

“No, Stiles,” Derek protested, holding out a hand to ward him off, “I'm not taking your money for lunch, it's too much. Plus, you gave me some yesterday which is more than enough.” He shook his head.

“Please, Derek?” Stiles whined, shaking the money at him. “ I don't want you to go hungry.”

Derek smiled. If he were honest, he could do with the money, but he didn't want to take Stiles' hard-earned cash, he didn't want to feel like a charity case. He wasn't stupid, he knew that he pretty much was one. But, he and Stiles were becoming friends. He didn't want to take his money. “Thank you, but no.” he said firmly. Stiles pouted in reply, and Derek found his eyes being drawn to his mouth.

“Okay, fine. But, if you won't accept the money, why accept the coffee?” He asked. It was obvious that it was an attempt at manipulation in order to persuade Derek to take it, but luckily, Derek had a pretty good answer.

“That's easy,” he shrugged “You get to enjoy the coffee with me.”

He watched as Stiles took in a deep breath and nodded in reply. He slowly put the money back in his pocket. “Okay, fine.” It was plain to see that Stiles wasn't very used to losing any kind of argument, and that amused Derek. More than it probably should. Stiles looked down at his phone in his hand again. “I really have to leave now, but promise me that you'll be here later when I get back from work?” The hope and pleading in his eyes pulled at something deep inside of Derek.

“Yes, Stiles. I'll be here.”

Stiles positively beamed in response, “Awesome, I'll see you later okay?” He yelled as he was practically flying down the alley. Derek yelled back and watched him leave with a private little smile on his face.

It sure felt nice having someone care about him again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh deadline week, how I loathe you! 
> 
> Thanks again for all of the wonderful comments and kudos. Seriously overwhelming me here guys. 
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy the new chapter. Or as I like to call it, the highest form of procrastination!

“Earth to Stiles,” an irritated voice broke through the deep thoughts Stiles was having whilst staring out of the office window. He looked down to see he was still stirring his coffee. He didn't even remember getting a coffee. “Come in, Stiles!” the voice said. He looked up into the eyes of Lydia. She had a kind smile on her face, “You were a million miles away then, weren't you?” 

 

He smiled in return, “Just about,” he agreed. Although it was only really a short bus journey and a short walk down an alley away. “How are you today anyway?” 

 

“I'm pretty good thanks, how did the presentation go yesterday?” They turned together and started walking back Stiles' cubicle. Now, Lydia Martin was about the only person Stiles felt comfortable enough to call a friend. She was above him at work, and had kind of taken him under her wing from his very first day in the office. They would often go to the gym together and had a strict diet/exercise plan they stuck to. She had helped his wardrobe change from the angst-ridden teenager look into proper adult wear. And for that, he would always adore her. 

 

"Pretty good I think, the comments were good. So, fingers crossed." 

 

She grabbed his arm and stopped him in his tracks. Her eyes had narrowed, "What's wrong?" He opened his mouth the protest, but she simply interrupted him. "Out with it, Stilinski." 

 

He left out a breath, "It's scary how well you can read me, woman." He shook his head. She looked smug at that, and gestured for him to continue. "Okay, well... There's this guy..." he hesitated at her eyebrows rising. "What?" 

 

"I knew it," she exclaimed, "I knew it was a guy. No one every gets that looks on their face unless they're mooning over a guy." She jumped up and down slightly, "What's he like?" 

 

"No, no." He quickly protested, "It's not like that?" _Really, Stiles?_ He frowned at his inner voice and mentally shook it off. "I met him yesterday," 

 

Lydia interrupted him again, "And he's put that look on your face already? Must be pretty something." 

 

"No, Lydia. You're not listening. He's... in a situation. And I really want to help him. But it's too early to do the things I really want to." He huffed, "He's never accept it at the moment." 

 

Lydia frowned at him, and shook her head slightly, “You can't help people who don't want to be helped, Stiles.” She grabbed his arm “Maybe he's just not ready yet. Just do what you can for him in the mean time, and let him know that you are a good person, and you are willing to help. No matter what.” She smiled kindly, “Now, I need to get back to my office and do some actual work today. Fancy grabbing a bite to eat tonight?” 

Stiles smiled. He knew that he could always rely on Lydia to give him the perfect bit of advice. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, he knew exactly what he was going to do for Derek. “I can't tonight I'm afraid, I've already got plans.” 

 

Lydia pouted at rejection, “Are you blowing me off so you can sit on your butt and play guitar hero or skype with Scott? I'm a real in the flesh person, Stiles. Remember those?” 

 

Stiles chuckled. She knew him too well.”Actually, my plans include 'a real in the flesh person', for a change.” He watched as Lydia's eyebrows shot up, the silent question hanging in the air. “Yes, they're with him.” He said, “Now, get on with some work.” He ordered. Lydia's face had split into an impossibly large grin, he nodded at him once, turned on her heel and flounced off back to her desk. Stiles watched her with a fond look in his eye. She really was something else, that one. 

 

Stiles turned back to his desk, and proceeded to doodle on his notepad. His head just wasn't in the right place today. Derek was occupying all of his thoughts. The things that were going through Stiles' head about the other man were beginning to tire him out. He was worrying about Derek being warm enough, eating enough, having someone to talk to and countless other things. And that wasn't to mention the copious amounts of wondering he was doing. Where was Derek from? How long had he been on the street? Why was he on the street? Honestly, he was exhausting himself and it was becoming increasingly difficult to focus. 

 

He looked down at the notepad and looked at the random doodles staring back at him. They didn't make any sense. They were simply scribbles, and lines. He slammed the book shut and forced himself to turn to the computer. Yet, he did nothing but stare at it blankly. 

 

It was going to be a long day... 

 

*** 

Eventually, Stiles found himself riding on the bus. It had been a simply hellish day at work, and he didn't achieve half of the things on his to-do list, but at least it was now the weekend. At he was finally able to go and see the man who had occupied his thoughts all day. He clutched the bag tightly in his hand. The smell wafting up and making his mouth start to salivate. God, he was hungry. And he was pretty sure he knew someone else who would be too. 

 

He quickly slammed his hand on the stop button and hastily stood up. He was excited to see Derek, there was simply no denying that. He just hoped the man kept to his promise and would still be there. 

 

He jumped off the bus and made his way to the alley-way. And if he walked a bit faster than he normally would, well that was no-one's business but his own. 

 

He was inexplicably nervous, wondering whether or not Derek was actually going to be there. He was straining his eyes, trying to see him, although he knew he wouldn't be able to from here. 

 

Eventually he reached where Derek usually was, to find him in much the same position he was in when Stiles had left him that morning. He breathed out a sigh of relief. “Hey,” 

 

Derek looked up at him and smiled, and Stiles could see it in his eyes. His stomach gave an unexpected flip at it. “Hi, told you I'd be here.” 

 

“That you did,” he replied, and sat down in what was fastly becoming his usual spot next to Derek.”So, I was thinking about what you said this morning,” at Derek's slight look of confusion, Stiles elaborated, “About how me buying you the coffee is different, because I enjoy it too.” Derek gave a little nod in response. “Well, I figured that seeing as I didn't have any lunch today, I'd have something to eat when I finished work.” He pulled the bag closer to himself, “And I was really craving a burger. Figured you might want one too?” 

 

“Stiles...” Derek began, but stopped when Stiles dug a burger out of the bag. 

 

“Don't tell me that I didn't have to do this,” Stiles said, “I know I didn't.” He handed the burger to Derek, “But I wanted to, so deal with it.” 

 

Derek let out a breath and Stiles knew that he had won the argument. “Thank you,” Derek whispered.

 

“No need to thank me,” Stiles replied, “You're not the only one who benefits from this you know.” 

 

Derek looked at him quizzically. “How do you figure that? You're the one spending all the money and sitting out here in the cold with me when you have a nice warm place to go back to.” It was the closest Stiles had ever heard him to being pissed off, but it was obvious he was just confused by Stiles' actions. 

 

“Yeah, sure. But it's pretty much money I'd be spending anyway,” which... Okay, was a little bit of a lie. But he didn't need to share that, “And sure, I have a nice warm flat to go back to. But it's also an empty one. All my friends and family live hundreds of miles away and I'm not even allowed pets in my place, so it's not like I even have a cat to keep me company. So yeah, sitting here, having a conversation and sharing a burger with you?” He pointed at himself. “Benefiting.” 

 

The other man looked down at his burger. Stiles wished with everything in him that he could read the man's thoughts right then. “Okay.” Was all he replied. 

 

“Good, now eat your burger.” He joked and Derek smiled once again in reply and took a bite. He let out a little moan at the taste, and Stiles found himself staring at him, warmth flowing through him, despite the cold and his mouth hanging slightly open. He shook himself and bit into his own burger.

 

“How was work anyway?” Derek asked.

 

“Pretty good, not much happened today. Just the usual paper work after paper work and coffee after coffee. I'm so pleased it's the weekend now though. Finally get to relax a bit, before judgement day on Monday.” 

 

“Do you think you'll get the account?” 

 

“God, I hope so, man!” Stiles replied, rather enthusiastically and managed to fling a bit of burger sauce, covered lettuce onto Derek. “Shit, sorry!” he apologised and quickly started to rub the mark it had left behind on Derek's arm. 

 

“It's fine,” Derek said covering Stiles' hand. “it's just a little mark, and doesn't really make a difference.” 

 

“Not the point,” Stiles snapped. He hated how little Derek thought of himself and his belongings. 

 

Derek looked a little taken back by that though, and Stiles felt instantly guilty. “I just don't like to hear you talk like that.” He confessed. 

 

“Like what?” Derek asked, and he seemed genuinely confused. 

 

“Like you're not worth anything.” 

 

Derek's eyes instantly widened in response to that. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, unable to reply straight away. “Okay, I'll try to stop then. For you.” 

 

Stiles smiled sadly, “I'd appreciate that. But you should try to stop for yourself. You may be homeless, Derek. But that doesn't mean you're worthless.” 

 

Derek didn't say anything in reply, he just looked down at his burger, and neither of them mentioned when a tear dropped onto it. They finished the rest of their food in companionable silence. And Stiles left once more with the promise of returning the next day. 

 

*** 

Stiles had an odd feeling in his stomach for the entire walk back to his apartment. It wasn't that he felt sick or anything. It was an indescribable feeling, but the closest he could get to was it feeling cold. 

 

He went about his nightly habits, playing guitar hero, skyping Scott and Allison and catching up on Banshee, but still this peculiar feeling was plaguing him. 

 

He got into bed that night, after showering and having a glass of warm milk and cinnamon (his mum used to make it for him all the time as a kid, and he still hadn't gotten out of the habit), and it wasn't until the moment that he closed his eyes, and saw an oddly coloured pair smiling back at him that he realised what it was. 

 

Attraction. 

 

His eyes instantly flew open. He was inexcusably angry and mystified with himself. Derek was someone who needed some stability and friendship in his life. Not someone who provided that, but secretly yearned for something more. No. Stiles couldn't do that to Derek. It was obvious the man had already been through a hell of a lot, he didn't need some kind of sugar daddy swanning in and pretending to help, when all they really wanted was sex. _Ah, but it wouldn't just be that now, would it, Stiles? You'd want more than just sex._

 

“Shut up,” he scolded himself. 

 

No. Stiles couldn't do this to Derek or himself. He'd have to nip these feelings in the bud before they developed any further. 

 

It was only fair to them both.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. What a chapter. This one was determined not to be written.   
> However, I have now officially finished Uni for the year! YAY! And I don't start my new job until Thursday, and in the meantime have NOTHING to do. So... expect more very soon!   
> Also, an addition to the tags, sorry guys!

“’Lo?” Stiles mumbled into the phone and instantly regretted it. In his sleep drunk mind he thought the best port of call to shut the blasted thing up was to answer. Now he had to attempt a conversation with whoever was on the other end. He should have just silenced it. Damn him.

 

“Morning, Son,” replied a painfully familiar voice that shot equal parts happiness and longing through Stiles. At least his dad knew him well enough that he wouldn’t have to put too much effort in constructing a sentence. 

 

“Hi, Dad,” he grunted. The sheriff gave a little chuckle in reply, which sent a stab of emotion through Stiles. God, he missed his dad. 

 

“I’ve got some good news for you, boy. The department have finally clocked on that I haven’t taken any vacation in a while, so they’re sending me on forced leave in about two weeks. I’m thinking of flying over to yours, if you’re happy to let your old man cramp your style for a week or so?” 

 

The effect that simple sentence had on Stiles was more or less unheard of this close to him having woken up. He springed up in bed so fast he felt slightly dizzy. “Are you actually serious?!” He demanded. The sheriff had bypassed chuckling and was full-on laughing now. “Don’t say it if it’s not going to happen, Dad.” He ordered.

 

“I promise, Son.” John replied. “I’m going to book my ticket as soon as I’ve finished on the phone.” 

 

“Then hang up!” Stiles shrieked, “Book them now!” 

 

“So, you’re happy for me to come then?” 

 

“I’m not going to dignify that with a response. Do you have to wait two weeks?” 

 

“The guys need to get someone to cover me, so they need a bit of time to arrange that, but as soon as that’s done, I’m good to go!”

 

“I can’t actually believe this,” Stiles wondered, “It’s the best news to have been woken up to, by far. God, I’m going to make so many plans, and you can meet Derek!” 

 

“Derek?” He father asked, in only the tone that parents seem to manage. “Who’s Derek?” 

 

Stiles was silent. He couldn’t think of a reply, and was shocked at himself for even mentioning him to his dad. But he supposed it was only natural after last night’s realisation. But how was he supposed to explain everything to his dad? He knew it would only make the sheriff worry if he told him he has regular chats with homeless guy. And he wouldn’t even give Stiles a chance to explain himself. 

 

“Stiles?” The sheriff prompted, leaving Stiles no choice but to think on his feet.

 

“Derek is my fish. I decided to get one regardless of what my landlord says. It’s only a tiny little tank and one little fish, so what’s the harm?” 

 

The sheriff grunted, and Stiles could tell he didn’t believe him. “Your fish?” he asked with more than a little trepidation in his voice. 

 

“Yes, Dad, it’s my goldfish.” Stiles insisted. He knew his dad would accept it for the time being. It was easier than questioning Stiles. At least until he got there.

 

“Okay…” the sheriff sighed, “Anyway, Son. I’m going to go, so you can pull yourself together and pour countless coffees down your neck.”

 

“Okay, Pop. Let me know when you’ve booked your tickets! Speak to you later, love you.”

 

“Love you too, Son. Bye.” And with that the sheriff hung up. Stiles sighed and buried his head in his hands. 

 

Shit. He was going to have to buy a fucking fish. 

 

*** 

 

Stiles continued to see Derek, and they built up a solid friendship. Stiles would see him everyday before work and afterwards, frequently buying him coffee or food which Derek always, though reluctantly accepted.

 

Stiles found out that he did get the account at work, and the first person he thought of telling was Derek. So yeah, it was obvious that he was struggling with his feelings. But was adamant not to act on them. For Derek’s sake. Little did he know that those feelings were reciprocated. Though Derek was sure if he acted on them, Stiles would shoot him down in a second. Kindly of course, because it was Stiles. But he’d gradual stop coming to see Derek, and Derek couldn’t cope with that, he needed Stiles in his life, no matter what the context. 

 

They talked about everything, Stiles expressing how lonely he felt and how distant he was feeling from his best friend Scott. And Derek, telling Stiles things he’d never told anyone, about his family and how tough it was actually living on the streets. They would have light hearted conversations too, about trivial things that didn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things, but both made the people they were.

 

Stiles had finally gathered the courage to invite Derek over to his flat, but Derek declined. He didn’t want to put Stiles out, or make their friendship more of an obligation that anything else. Stiles understood, though he disagreed immensely and insisted that it was not a problem. But Derek didn’t feel right about it, for more reasons than he was willing to admit, even to himself.

 

Stiles did however bring Derek homemade food from time to time, and even bought him an extra sleeping bag and pillow, and dug an old coat out that he hadn’t worn since he’d been living there. Derek initially declined, but after a long conversation where Stiles assured him he knew Derek wasn’t a charity case, and he just wanted to make sure he stayed warm and safe, he gratefully accepted. 

 

Stiles told Derek that his dad was coming down, and that he’d still come and see him, but not as frequently. Derek was so happy that Stiles was going to see his dad, but was as close to devastated as he could get. He knew he’d miss Stiles terribly, even if he were still going to see him. Hell, he even missed him now when he was at work or at home. 

 

Stiles told Derek about the whole fish situation, and how he spent ages in the pet shop trying to pick one out that looked like a ‘Derek’ and Derek laughed loudly at the story, not taking the least bit of offense. He understood the situation Stiles was im. Which, in turn made Stiles smile. He loved to make Derek laugh and smile. It always made him feel a little warm inside.

 

Since getting the account, things had changed for Stiles too. He spent more time with his colleagues. Especially Erica, who he was beginning to actually consider a friend. Not that he’d ever tell her that of course. He’d also formed a tentative friendship with Isaac in the coffee shop. He spent enough time in there, so it only made sense. Isaac would prepare his and Derek’s coffees as soon as he saw Stiles walk through the door. They’d frequently have a bit of a flirt and some banter, but Stiles knew it wouldn’t ever really go further. His heart wasn’t in it. 

 

Things were looking up for Stiles and he couldn’t help but think it was all due to Derek coming into his life. Derek wasn’t aware of it, but he lit Stiles up like no-one had ever been able to before. He made him more confidant, and overall happier. 

 

Things were improving a little for Derek too. Since he’d been seeing stiles he’d gained a little weight, had more energy and walked around a bit more. All because Stile had been drilling into him that he was actually not a worthless piece of shit. He now spoke to more people. He felt confidant enough in himself to walk into shops and cafes now. So when a passer-by took pity on him and gave him some money, he would buy food with it. 

 

Neither had any real idea just how much they meant to one another. 

 

Neither had any real idea just how perfect they were for one another. 

 

***

 

“Come one,” a strange voice demanded, jolting Derek awake. “Time to move on, buddy.” He felt a foot nudge him, “You can’t stay here tonight.” It stated. 

 

Derek blinked up at the man with confusion inching over every little bit of his face. “Sorry?” 

 

“I’ve been told by my manager that you have to move. He’s not happy with having a bum hanging around out here. Go and stink up someone else’s doorway.” He nudged Derek again. 

 

“I don’t understand…” Derek stuttered, “I’ve been here for as long as I can remember. There’s never been a problem before.” He looked up at the guy, but it was too dark and the light behind him made it impossible to make out his face. 

 

“Well there is now, so move it.” 

 

Derek didn’t want to get into an argument, so he started to stand, when he was on his knees though the guy pushed him back down. He grunted in pain on the impact of his side hitting the concrete. 

 

“Sorry man,” the guy said sarcastically. “Here,” he offered his hand. Derek just looked at it, knowing he couldn’t trust him. But knowing he wouldn’t really have any choice but to take his hand.   
“Come on,” the guy growled and shook his hand. Derek could tell this guy was getting riled up and frustrated, so he took the offered hand. He pulled Derek up with that hand, straight into the fist he’d made with the other. “Dirty fucking Bum.” He snarled. “Out here stinking up the place, probably injecting heroin aren’t ya? You deserve a good beating, fucking Hobo.” And his fist connected with Derek’s face again, knocking him back to the floor. He grunted in pain, tasting blood in his mouth. “Get up then?” the guy shouted, “Aren’t you gonna try and defend yourself?!” 

 

Derek kneeled shakily and swung his arm out. He missed completely and ended up falling forward. 

 

“That all you got?” The other guy yelled. He landed a blow into Derek’s ribs, “God, that was fucking pathetic.” Another kick to the ribs. Derek was trying with everything in him to stop himself from crying out in pain, but he couldn’t stop the sobs from erupting from his mouth. 

 

“Please…” he begged “Please stop, I’ll leave.” 

 

“It’s too late to leave now, you pathetic, worthless little Bum. Now you’re getting what all homeless little druggies deserve.” The guy landed blow after blow to Derek as he lay the crying out and unable to stop him. Begging for mercy. But stills the hits kept coming.

 

The last thing Derek thought of before he lost consciousness was how sad Stiles was going to be when he found his dead body in the morning.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay... Even I couldn't stand Derek being left like that... So I'm throwing another at you guys.  
> All I can do is apologise.  
> Please, don't hate me...

Stiles was happily mouthing the words along to the song that had been stuck in his head all morning as he was walking to the coffee shop. He was in a brilliant mood and really looking forward to sharing the news he received last night with Derek. Add that to the fact that his dad was going to be here the day after tomorrow and he was practically floating along with happiness. 

 

He smiled at the bell in the coffee shop and saw Isaac behind the counter. He nodded at him and Isaac gave him that cute, innocent little smile back. “Usual, Stiles?” 

 

“Yes please, Isaac.” He answered, “How are you this morning?” 

 

“I’m pretty good, thanks.” He replied, “I would ask you, but I think I can tell,” he joked. 

 

“Well, you know me. Always got a smile on my face.” 

 

Stiles chucked a newspaper on the till that they happened to be selling, “I’ll take that today too please,” He thought Derek might like it to read. Which opened him to the question, should he get Derek a couple of books? It might be an idea, keep his mind occupied. And Derek had told him, he loved to read. Especially Charles Dickens. Yes. Stiles decided he’d do it, he’d go to a charity shop and see what Dickens novels they have. Derek would like that. 

 

He hummed to himself whilst flicking through the paper as Isaac prepared the drinks. “So, you know that we’ve got a poetry reading here in a couple of days, you coming?” Isaac asked offhandedly. 

 

Stiles thought about it. That would be perfect, his dad would be down by then and he could drag the sheriff here, and pop outside during and see Derek again. It was flawless. 

 

“Yeah,” he grinned, “I’ll be here.” 

 

The smile he got in return from Isaac would have taken his breath away when they first met, but had little effect on him now. “Great!” Isaac exclaimed, “Erm, do you wanna take my number in case you can’t make it or anything?” 

 

Stiles thought about it. Would it be leading Isaac on, or just exchanging numbers with a new friend? He decided on the latter and took Isaac’s number and gave him his own. 

 

Shortly afterward he took both coffees and left for the alleyway. He was practically vibrating with excitement by this point, and getting ever eager to see Derek. 

 

He rounded Derek’s corner to find it empty. There were no piles of blankets, no bundles of coats and most importantly, no Derek. 

 

Stiles felt his heart give a lurch, and walked over quicker. “Derek?” he called to no response. He was clinging onto the coffees for dear life. He wouldn’t just up and leave. There was no way Derek would do that. He had to be around here somewhere. “Derek?!” He called again, frantic now. 

 

He heard a little moan coming from between the dumpsters. He dropped the coffees in his rush to get over there. The closer he got, the more he could make out the shape of a man lying between them. He knew it was Derek, recognising the shoes. 

 

He threw himself on the ground at his feet. “Derek?” he whispered, “It’s me, Stiles.” All he received in reply was a muffled grunt. He touched Derek’s leg, and felt him flinch away. “Derek?” he asked again, getting really worried now, “What happened?” 

 

The man rolled over and sat up. And Stiles let out a gasp when he saw him. His face was bloody and swollen, a cut on his lip, above his eye and a streak of dried blood leading from his nose, leading over his cheek. He reached out a hand and Derek shied away. 

 

“Oh my God.” He sat back shaking, “What the hell happened?” 

 

“It’s nothing,” Derek replied harshly. 

 

“Don’t tell me it’s nothing, Derek. What the fuck happened? Who did this to you?” he demanded. 

 

Stiles watched as a cloud came over Derek’s face, and for a moment he was scared. He knew he wasn’t going to enjoy this conversation. That it was going to hurt him on a level he wasn’t aware, and tried to brace himself for it. 

 

“Just leave it Stiles, shit like this happens.” Derek snapped. 

 

“How can you say that? Stuff like this doesn’t just happen, Derek. You’ve obviously been attacked. We need to contact the police!” 

 

A bitter, almost evil sounding laugh left Derek at that. “The police? Are you serious? What makes you think they’re going to give a damn? I’m just a worthless, little Bum. They don’t care about what happens to me.” He sneered and Stiles recoiled. 

 

“How can you say that?” He asked. 

 

“What? Because you seem to think I’m not completely worthless, everyone else has to think that too? Wake up, Stiles. The world doesn’t work like that. People are assholes and sometimes people do deserve to be treated like they’re nothing, because sometimes they are.” 

 

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Stiles spat, “Don’t you dare say that!” 

 

Derek snorted, “Why? Because you don’t want to hear it? Because it ruins your whole ‘make friends with the homeless guy and make myself feel better' shtick? You don’t need to pretend anymore, Stiles. You’ve only done this, make friends with me, buy me shit and invite me back to yours to make yourself feel like a good person. You’ve never had any real interest in me. And me, I was just too desperate to turn you down. But now we don’t have to pretend anymore. Leave me alone, Stiles. Just go.” 

 

“How can you say that?” Stiles asked, “I know you don’t honestly think that, Derek. I know you, we’re friends,” he could feel his eyes welling up, “We’re friends. I do that stuff because I care about you. I worry about you and want to make sure you’re okay. I like you, Derek, We’re friends.” He reached out to him, “You know this, Derek. Stop pretending you don’t.” 

 

He saw panic in Derek’s eyes as he reached out to him again and knew he was getting through. “Please, Derek. Don’t do this?” 

 

Derek batted Stiles hand away, “Do what? Give you the out you want? Just leave. I don’t want you to come and see me anymore. Just leave, Stiles.” And with that he turned his back on him. 

 

“We’re not done here, Derek. I know why you’re doing this. Don’t push me out, I want to help you, you’re my friend.” 

 

“LEAVE!” Derek roared and Stiles fell backwards. Tears now running down his face, he stood and left without another word, though it broke his heart to do so. 

 

As he got to the mouth of the alley, he looked back and saw Derek’s form shaking silently, and he knew, without a single doubt in his mind, that this was not over. 

 

*** 

 

“Stilinski.” A voice broke through to Stiles. He looked up from his desk into the kind face of Vernon Boyd, one of the partners at the advertising firm. “You don’t look good, is everything okay?” 

 

Stiles blinked slowly at him in response. “Huh?” 

 

Boyd rested himself on Stiles’ desk. “You okay?” 

 

“Not really, Boyd.” He replied quietly. If he honest with himself, he was surprised he even made it into work. He must’ve done it on auto-pilot because he didn’t remember the journey at all. He just remembered being in emotional agony and wishing he could turn back time. “I… I don’t…” He choked up and Boyd shook his head. 

 

“I’m not having you in like this, Stilinski. I want you to take this rest of the day off, hell take tomorrow off if you need it!” 

 

“But, I have this account, and I’ve got four days holiday next week anyway.” 

 

Boyd gestured his head at that, “True, but what kind of boss would I be if I don’t let my staff take a few personal days when they clearly need them. Now, pack up your things, I want you out of here in half an hour. I’ll erm... I’ll let Erica know.” 

 

Stiles smiled sadly at him. “Thanks, Boyd.” 

 

“No problem,” and with that, he stood and left. 

 

The bus ride home was not fun. Half of Stiles desperately wanted to cut through the alley-way and talk to Derek about all of this, the rest of him thought it was best to leave him be. 

 

He was playing with his phone and scrolled past Isaac’s number when he was struck with a moment of brilliance. He instantly started digging in his bag and pulled out a pen and his notebook. 

 

No. Things weren’t over between him and Derek. He’d make damn sure of that. 

 

*** 

 

Tears were streaming down Derek’s face as he had to sit there and listened to Stiles leave. He knew that it was the best thing. He didn’t deserve a friend like Stiles. He was nothing but what that guy from last night had said. A worthless Bum. 

 

Watching Stiles’ face as he said those things to him ripped something inside of Derek, that he was convinced would never be repaired. And now, he had lost the only person he knew would be able to help him with it. 

 

But, it made sense, and he knew that Stiles would thank him for it one day. Even if he would always hate himself for it. 

 

He tried to move, but his ribs wouldn’t let him just yet. Too sore from the repeated kicking they received the night before. He simply lay there, thinking things over in his head. 

 

There were so many reasons why he did what he did. Not just because he no longer saw himself worthy of Stiles’ friendship, but he knew that Stiles frequently turned down offers to spend time with people from work, who he could become good friends with, just to spend time with Derek. He knew he was a financial drain on Stiles, and Stiles wouldn’t stop spending money on him until he literally couldn’t anymore. 

 

Plus, there was always the chance of the guy from last night coming back. Derek wasn’t going to move from his spot. It was one of the safest places in the city, and barring last night, he’d never had any trouble here before. So, he was staying. And he would take another beating if that’s what it took. But if the guy came back when Stiles was here? Derek would never forgive himself. 

 

He eventually pulled himself over to the usual spot, to see that all of his bedding had been taken. He felt like crying again upon the discovery. 

 

Well, it looked like he was in for a cold, lonely night. 

 

*** 

 

“Erm… Hello?” A voice asked, and it sent a stream of dread down Derek’s spine. “Are, are you okay?” He looked up into innocent, fearful, blue eyes. “You’re Derek, right?” the boy asked. 

 

“Who wants to know?” Derek snapped back, his voice gruff with sleep. It had been a restless night, he was sure he was going to die through the cold and honestly had no idea how he was still alive. 

 

“I’m Isaac. I was asked to deliver this to you?” The boy – Isaac, held out a coffee, a paper bag and a white envelope. “And I was told that if you refuse, I’m to tell you to stop being a dick, accept it and then walk away and leave you.” 

 

Derek smiled in spite of himself. He knew who was behind this. “Thank you Isaac,” he said, taking the offered gifts from him. “You can go and report back now.” Isaac beamed at him, turned on his heel and fled down the alley and out of sight. 

 

“God damn it, Stiles.” He whispered. He tore into the envelope and read it carefully. 

 

_Right, I have no idea what was going through your mind yesterday. But I am NOT letting you push me away like that Derek._  
 _I know things are hard for you, and that stuff happens that’s out of everyone’s control sometimes. But being attacked should never be like that. You should never feel like you can’t go to the police. But I do understand your reasoning. However, if you ever see whoever did that to you again, let me know. And I promise and swear on my mother’s grave that they will pay._  
 _Now, I’m not going to lie, what you said yesterday hurt me. A lot. But I understand and forgive you. All I’ve ever wanted is to be your friend Derek, to help you and believe in you, until you can believe in yourself. I know you’re not a charity case, and I’ve never seen you as one. But, what kind of human would I be if I didn’t help someone when they needed it. It just happened that I liked you, and I’ve continued to grow kinda fond of you._  
 _You’re the only person in this whole city that I feel I can truly be myself around. The only one I can talk to, and I don’t want to lose that._  
 _I don’t want to lose you._  
 _I’m going to respect your wishes, and not come back to the alley until you invite me, but I am giving you my address and would really like for you to come and see me. I can make you a coffee with the amazing machine I’ve told you about. I'm not at work today, and will be here all day._  
 _I hope you’re okay, and I hope to see you soon._  
 _Your friend,_  
 _Stiles X_

 

Derek was outright and unashamedly crying by the time he got to the end. He tucked the letter under himself so it wouldn’t blow away and looked into the bag. Inside were two muffins and Derek laughed. He knew who he wanted to share them with. 

 

He looked back at the letter and saw the address. He nodded to himself once, and heaved himself up with some effort. There was somewhere he had to be.


	6. Chapter 6

The T.V was blaring the opening credits to the news, and Stiles was curled up on the sofa under his favourite blanket in front of it. He wasn’t really watching it, was simply staring at it. 

 

Yesterday morning kept playing over and over in his head. He could understand why Derek had done it, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. He was more aware now than ever before just how much Derek had come to mean to him. 

 

He was happy with his decision to ask Isaac to deliver the note and coffee to Derek this morning. No matter what happened between them yesterday, he still wanted to make sure Derek had some food and a hot drink in his belly. Even if he simply tore the note up and threw it away, Stiles would know that he’d tried. And he was determined to carry on until he got through to him. 

 

He’d been wallowing and hadn’t even showered today, just eating endless rubbish and channel hopping. He finally decided to order some lunch because the food he had in was practically a science experiment it was so out of date. But who had the time to clean out the fridge and go shopping? 

 

He muted the tele, thinking he heard a faint knock at his door. He turned his head a little closer and it sounded again. He stood up, grabbed his wallet and shuffled to the door in his slippers, blanket still wrapped around himself. God, it had been ages since he’s had pizza, and he was so looking forward to it. 

 

He flung the door open, and was stupefied by what met him on the other side. It was no pizza man, but the man he was hoping it was going to be “I didn’t think you were going to come,” he murmured. 

 

Derek looked back at him, blinking slowly. “I- I’m…” he cleared his throat. 

 

Stiles took a step toward him with a heavy heart. “Hey, it’s okay. Come in.” He opened the door wider and gestured for Derek to lead the way. “Sit down, I’ll make coffees.” 

 

He watched as Derek limped over to the sofa. There was a commotion on the news, lots of people gathered round and dressed in those white suit things, but Stiles wasn’t paying much attention. He was too busy focusing on the man in his living room. 

 

He shook himself and walked to the little kitchen and set up the coffee machine. 

 

It didn’t take long to make the drinks and he was soon walking back to the living room with two steaming mugs. He looked up, Derek wasn’t sitting down, he was simply stood there, gazing out of the window. “Derek?” Stiles questioned, “You alright?” 

 

He got a curt nod in reply. “You can sit down, you know?” He prompted, as he placed the coffees on the table.

 

“No, I…” 

 

“I didn’t hear that, can you repeat it?” He looked at the others man’s face. Still covered in blood and so closed off. He hated to see Derek this way, wanted him safe, warm, fed and clean. 

 

Derek let out all the breath in his lungs. “I’m dirty.” He stated, taking Stiles by surprise. 

 

“So?” He shook his head, looking Derek in the eye. He watched as his face crumbled and the tears started to fall. He reached out and caught him as the other man crumbled to the floor. A mantra of sorrys falling from his lips. Stiles just held him, letting him let out all the emotion that had built up for him. And he would admit that he too had tears streaking his cheeks. 

 

Eventually the tears came to a stop, and still they didn’t let go of one another. “Don’t apologise to me,” Stiles whispered, “I forgave you the second the words came out of your mouth.” They pulled apart and looked at each other intently. Stiles still trying to work out what colour Derek’s eyes were. Still wanting the sadness to be swept away from them. 

 

There was a sudden rap on the door and they both jerked away from one another, not realising until that very moment just how close they were. Stiles got to his feet and answered the door. The pizza guy was trying to look around him and into the flat, but Stiles was determined to block his view. No-one was allowed to see Derek like this, only him. 

 

He paid the guy and slammed the door in his face. He dropped the pizza off in the kitchen and went back to Derek. “Come on,” he said and offered his hand. Derek looked at it in a way Stiles couldn’t begin to decipher. “I’m not going to hurt you, I’m going to help,” he encouraged, and Derek eventually took his hand and Stiles helped him back to his feet. 

 

Without letting go of his hand, he gently and slowly led him to the bathroom. He nodded for Derek to take a seat on the toilet lid. And he turned the taps on for the bath. He took a couple of items out of the cupboard above the sink, dribbled some of the bubble bath under the running water and set the other on the counter. 

 

“I’m going to clean up these cuts okay?” He asked, and Derek only nodded in reply. Stiles knelt between his legs, and gently rubbed at his eyebrow with an anti-septic wipe, it started bleeding again, so he put a plaster on it. He repeated the process with Derek’s cheek and lip. Leaving out the plaster for those, as they weren’t needed. 

 

“Right, I’ll let you get in the bath now. I’ll go and grab a few bits for you to chuck on afterwards, okay?” He pushed himself up, but was stopped when a hand shot out and clasped itself around his arm. 

 

“Don’t leave me,” Derek whimpered. “Please?” 

 

Stiles’ heart just about melted at that, and there was no way he could deny it. “Okay,” he said softly. “I’ll stay,” The look of relief that flashed through Derek’s eyes just about slayed him. “I’ll just go and get some clean clothes for you; I’ll be right back, okay?” Derek nodded and Stiles rushed out.

 

He didn’t really know what to do in this situation, but one thing was for sure. He was going to do anything that Derek wanted if it would make him feel even slightly better. 

 

He hurried back in a pair of sweats and a large plain t-shirt. He’d get Derek a jumper or a blanket when he got cold. He pushed open the bathroom door and stopped in his tracks, horrified. 

 

Derek was clearly getting undressed, his top half already bear, which was the cause for Stiles to be horrified. Dark bruises marred almost every inch of Derek’s ribs and few on his back. The colours, which under different circumstances would be quite beautiful, were now a hideous, repugnant parody. Stiles had never seen anything like it. It made him feel physically sick to his stomach knowing somebody had inflicted this onto his friend. 

 

He was so distracted by the bruises that it took him a minute to notice just how thin Derek was. Of course, he knew he was going to be thin, living on the streets. However, he wasn’t prepared to be able to see his shoulder blades. To see almost every single vertebrae leading down his back. For hip bones to look like they were trying to push their way out of his skin. God, it made Stiles almost break down. He couldn’t stand the thought of Derek being this way. He deserved so much better. He deserved everything in life, and how Stiles wished he could give it to him. But now, he would do the friendly thing, and help him as much as he could. Right now that meant focussing on getting him clean and warm. 

 

“Sor-“ He began, but had to clear his throat when it came out as nothing more than a croak. His throat filled with emotion. “Sorry, I’ll face the door whilst you finish and get in?” 

 

Derek hummed in response and Stiles turned and faced the cool blankness of the bathroom door, though images of Derek’s naked torso were still swimming through his mind. He started to think of ways to help put some weight on Derek’s bones. Protein shakes and bars were always a good idea, and he decided that first thing in the morning he’d rush out and get some. Or maybe later today, if Derek feel asleep at all. 

 

He was disturbed by from his thoughts when he heard Derek emanate a loud hiss. “Are you okay?” he asked, inclining his head, but not turning around. 

 

“Yeah,” Came the reply, “Ribs hurt and water’s hot making them hurt a little bit more.”  
“Oh, sorry. I should have thought of that.” 

 

“Its fine, Stiles.” He heard Derek sigh and the sloshing sound of water, “It’s better than fine.” A content sigh escaped his lips and Stiles smiled. 

 

“Can I turn around now?” he asked, and Derek hurriedly gave permission. He looked at the man; his dignity was concealed by the bubbles and a private little smile was on his face, his eyes closed, simply absorbing the feeling of a bath after too long of not having one. _He’s so beautiful._ Stiles thought, and couldn’t even chastise himself for it. It was too true. 

 

He plopped himself on the toilet and told Derek all about the pizza they had waiting in the kitchen. Derek told him he didn’t need to feed him too, the bath was already too much, and Stiles told him to shut up and stop being stupid. 

 

Eventually, Derek had to stop merely enjoying the bath and actually clean himself. He reached for the sponge and shower gel, sniffed the latter and shared a cute little smile with Stiles. “It smells like you,” he whispered, and Stiles thought he was going to melt into a puddle on the floor. He felt his cheeks and the tips of his ears flaming and knew he had a dopey grin on his face, almost matching the one on Derek’s. 

 

He watched, enchanted as Derek poured a little of the shower gel out onto the sponge, and saw his face erupt in pain as he tried to reach his shoulder. 

 

“What’s wrong?” Stiles demanded, leaning forward. Derek shook his head slightly, breathing through the pain. 

 

“My ribs, they don’t appreciate me moving that way…” he sighed. 

 

Stiles looked at him, “Erm… I could-I could do it for you if you want?” He felt himself going red again. Derek met his eyes, and the pair just looked at each other for a moment or two. 

 

“Could you?” Derek asked, as he offered Stiles the sponge. 

 

Stiles nodded, and gently took it, their fingers brushing together. He knelt down beside the bath tub and started scrubbing Derek’s neck, and gradually worked his way down his back and arms. Derek would let out little happy noises every now and again, distracting Stiles from his task. No words were uttered; just Derek’s sounds and the sloshing of the water were the only sounds in filling the air. 

 

Each time Stiles rinsed the sponge and added a little more shower gel, it would be a shade darker. He didn’t know how long it had been since Derek had had a proper wash, but the evidence pointed out that it had been a while. 

 

Stiles finally came to stand still, there was nothing else for him to do, so he offered to wash Derek’s hair. Derek eagerly accepted and Stiles was caught somewhere between crying and laughing. Derek seemed to be enjoying the bath so immensely it was almost like he was at a spa. But the fact that he was enjoying something so much, that was a basic human right to do every day made Stiles want to weep for him. 

 

His hair was long and matted. Stiles was determined to try his best to get it clean, but he knew the only way he was going to get those knots out were through cutting it. He wet Derek’s hair with the shower head, and lathered it up with his shampoo. Derek humming happily to himself. “Derek?” Stiles asked, “How do you feel about a haircut? I know that the length helps keep you warm, but it’s just an idea.” 

 

“I can’t remember the last time I had a haircut.” Derek said, “I think it would be a good thing if I had it all cut off.” He rubbed at his chin, “Maybe my beard too. Start fresh.” He smiled at Stiles, trying to make light, but the pain in his eyes were clear to see. 

 

“You don’t have to, Derek. This is entirely up to you. Just know that the option is there.” 

 

“No,” Derek hastily replied “I’ve wanted to get rid of the mops for ages. I guess this is the best opportunity I’m going to get to do so.” 

 

“We’ll do that then.” Stiles nodded, “I’ll get the clippers whilst you finish up in here, okay?” 

 

Derek looked slightly panicked at the prospect of Stiles leaving him alone. He reached out and placed a hand on Derek’s arm. “I’ll be right outside the door, and we can talk the whole time, okay?” 

 

Derek closed his eyes, “God, you must think I’m so pathetic.” 

 

“Not in the slightest. I think you went through something yesterday that was terrible and obviously had an effect on you. I’m going to help you get over that Derek. I’m going to help you anyway I can, okay?” He reached up and took Derek’s face, and felt Derek push into the touch. “I’m not judging you at all. What happened yesterday was awful, and you didn’t deserve it, regardless of your situation. Okay?” 

 

Derek nodded, his eyes closed, but eyelashes glistening with tears, clinging on. The urge to lean forward and take Derek’s lips was pushing at Stiles. He wouldn’t even have to lean in that far. Just a mere few inches and they’d be kissing. 

 

Stiles abruptly pulled back. He wouldn’t let himself have those thoughts. He couldn’t allow himself to take advantage in this. 

 

He left Derek to finish up and found the clippers in the closet. When he returned, Derek was out, dry and clothed and sitting on the toilet lid, he was still mid-way through a sentence, as they’d been talking the entire time. 

 

Stiles plugged in the clippers and set to work, they chatted about mundane things as he hacked away at Derek’s hair, the clumps falling around their feet. He changed clipper heads and moved straight onto Derek’s beard, erasing all the hair that had grown over who knew how long. 

 

When he finished, he stepped back to look at his handy work. It was easier to tell how old Derek was no, in his mid to late twenties, he still had a serious looking face, but the lack of hair and beard made him look softer. Stiles absorbed the strong jaw line and chin, the intense cheek bones, highlighted even more due to the lack of weight on his bones, and he could now make out his mouth. 

 

He knew Derek was beautiful, but he hadn’t expected his physical appearance to reflect his inner beauty quite so perfectly. 

 

“Better?” Derek grinned, and Stiles was pretty sure he was going to have a heart-attack. He’d been so happy to see that smile before this moment. He’d done everything in his power to make it happen. Loved it when Derek smiled. But he’d never been exposed to the full effect of it before, and he couldn’t describe the feelings it provoked inside of him. It was simply stunning. 

 

“Better.” He croaked. 

 

*** 

 

They spent the rest of the day in front of the T.V, Derek had some of the pizza that Stiles had ordered and it was heaven. He couldn’t remember the last time pizza had touched his lips and it was marvellous. 

 

They spoke about a few things, and Derek was so happy that Stiles had invited him to his flat in the end. They didn’t speak of the argument from the day before. Stiles didn’t push for Derek to call the police anymore, and Derek was so thankful for that. 

 

Stiles introduced him to the wonderful world of guitar hero. Derek didn’t want a go; he preferred to watch Stiles play it. The notes came so quickly and there were so many of them, Derek honestly had no idea how Stiles managed it. Watching Stiles play this game was entertainment enough for him anyway. His tongue would poke out and mover across his mouth depending on where the notes were. 

 

It was odd, seeing Stiles in his own environment. In this place that smelt just like him and had his personality stamped everywhere. Derek felt safe here, which didn’t surprise him. Stiles always made him feel safe. 

 

With Stiles merely sitting there, playing his game, it gave the time that Derek needed to just look at him. Though he knew he’d never look his fill. 

 

God, he never knew that somebody so kind and goodhearted, funny and genuinely nice could also be so attractive. The pale skin, whiskey eyes, plump mouth and cute, slightly upturned little nose, all highlighted by the smattering of moles. Derek would never tell Stiles, but he had a favourite mole, which was the one just above his eyebrow. The man was utterly perfect, and Derek wanted him with every fibre of his being. 

 

“Oh, shit!” Stiles exclaimed “I forgot to tell you!” He paused the game and turned to face Derek. “I was going to tell you yesterday but… Yeah, anyway. Scott and Allison are pregnant!” The pure excitement in his voice was contagious and Derek found himself beaming back. 

 

“That’s fantastic news! I bet they’re thrilled,” 

 

Stiles was practically bouncing up and down in his seat by this point. Chattering away at Derek and explaining to him what he was going to do in his position of Godfather, and how he really didn’t care what sex the baby was at all, as long it had ten fingers, ten toes and was healthy. Cause the only thing that was important was a healthy, happy child, and he knew that the kid was going to be happy. 

 

Derek just let him talk, adding in the odd sentence. But on the whole, it was just Stiles who was talking. And Derek was happy for that happen. He loved to listen to Stiles talk, especially when it involved topics he was this excited about. 

 

If Derek were honest, it was moments like that, that made him fall for Stiles even more. 

 

*** 

 

“You’re staying here tonight, I’m not taking no for an answer. I don’t care what you say, you are sleeping here tonight.” Stiles stood in front of Derek with his hands on his hips, staring him down, almost asking him to decline.

 

Derek put both of his hands up and agreed. 

 

“You can stay in my bed, I’ll take the coach.” Stiles said, and the moment he saw Derek’s mouth open in an attempt to protest he told him it was final and walked into the bathroom. 

After brushing his teeth, he walked back into an empty living room. He walked through to his room and found Derek standing at the edge of the bed. 

 

“Are you sure about this?” he asked and Stiles just tsked in reply. “Okay,” Derek smiled. 

 

Stiles went to the other side of the bed and took a pillow, then grabbed the throw that laid at the bottom. “I’m going to be right through there if you need anything, okay?” 

 

“Yeah,” Derek nodded “Thank you, Stiles.” 

 

“It’s fine,” he smiled, “Goodnight, Derek.” And he turned and left the room before he could do anything stupid, like kiss him goodnight. 

 

He snuggled down on the sofa, acutely aware of the man who was lying in his bed in the room next door. He closed his eyes and tried to think of anything else, and failed. 

 

A little later, when Stiles was just in the stage of falling to sleep, he jerked awake at the sound of his bedroom door opening. “Is everything okay?” He asked the figure standing in the doorway, whilst rubbing at his eyes. 

 

“I can’t sleep,” Derek replied, “It’s been so long since I’ve slept in a bed, and everything is too quiet.” He huffed, “I was wondering…” 

 

Stiles waited for him to finish, but when it became obvious that he wasn’t going to, he said, “Wondering what?” 

 

Derek let out a breath and squeezed his eyes shut tight. “Would you mind sleeping in there with me? Just to keep me company and the sound of you breathing will be loud enough for me to relax, you know?” 

 

Stiles couldn’t cope with how many times this man made his heart jump to his throat. He was on a whole other level of everything. He took a deep breath in to steady himself. All he’d been thinking of all night was sleeping next to Derek, and now it looked like it was going to happen. “Okay,” he smiled and grabbed his pillow. 

 

*** 

 

The sound of a throat being cleared woke Stiles in the morning. His head was resting on Derek’s chest and he never wanted to move. He buried himself in closer and felt Derek’s arm tighten around him. But the noise sounded again. 

 

Stiles’ eyes flew open with the realisation that it wasn’t Derek making the noise. He looked toward to the door, and promptly wanted the ground to open and swallow him up. 

 

“Hi, Dad.”


	7. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are no words to describe how sorry I am about the hiatus! 
> 
> I've been so busy! Working 58hours a week and walking 9 miles for work! On top of moving house! I've barely had time to eat or sleep, so my baby (which is what I refer to this fic as) had to be neglected! 
> 
> However, here's a little interlude and hopefully I'll get the next chapter up sometime this week! 
> 
> This is unbeta'd as per, and written on my iPad, so apologies for any mistakes! 
> 
> And as always, I want to thank each and everyone of you who takes the time out of your day to read/comment/leave kudos on my work. It means more to me than I can ever put into words, and made me desperate to find some time to update for you guys! 
> 
> Anyway, without further delay...

Interlude 

"Hi, you're through to Stiles, don't bother leaving a message because I never listen to them." John sighed as the beep sounded and hung up again. 

He'd been frantically trying to get in contact with his son all day. And now he was in the city his only child lived, in the taxi on the way to his apartment and he still hadn't heard from him. 

The long flight had been torturous, with no way to contact him. The panic levels were rising and he could feel the permanent layer of sweat beading his forehead. 

And now it was getting even worse. The phone had stopped ringing all together and was now going directly to voicemail. 

He'd been at the airport, looking forward to seeing Stiles for the first time in far too long when he checked his phone. A news report about a young man found dead in the city where Stiles lived was the first article he came across. 

It fitted Stiles' description to a tee. 

Since then John had been desperately trying to get in contact with his son, to no avail. 

He was not a religious man, for many reasons and had only prayed a few times in his life. One of which was when there were complications with Stiles' birth. He'd had the umbilical cord wrapped around his head, and every time his wife had had a contraction, Stiles' heart beat stopped. 

So he had prayed. As he watched his wife being wheeled away for an emergency cesarean, and both her life and the life of their unborn son were hanging in the balance. 

That time his prayers were answered.

He'd also prayed in that very same hospital, with his wife's hand in his, his knee bouncing up and down as they waited on her test results. 

That time his prayers were ignored. 

The third time he remembered praying was as he sat with Stiles as he opened his letter from the college he'd wanted to go to. He knew how badly his son had wanted to get in and how much he deserved it after everything he'd been through. 

They had sat at the kitchen table, Stiles' hands trembling as he slowly pulled open the envelope, and John had watched every minuscule movement with eyes like a hawks. He kept repeating to himself, "Please, God. Let him get in. My kid needs this. Please Lord." Until eventually Stiles pulled the letter out, went ghostly white and whispered that he'd got in. 

John had instantly jumped up and flung his arms around his son. They were both so happy they were almost in tears. And John had muttered a little thank you for having his prayers answered once again. 

He only hoped that this one would be too. 

*** 

The taxi journey took too long, and John had his phone glued to his ear the entire time. It was not like Stiles to not answer his phone, and he'd never heard it go straight to voicemail. That boy always had his phone on, fully charged and with him. 

He looked up at Stiles' flat and took a deep breath. He had no idea what he was going to do if he walked in to find it empty, but he had to hope and pray that his son was in there. 

He pulled out his keys and let himself into the building. 

The journey itself had been long and excruciating, but the journey up to the apartment seemed to take longer than the rest of the trip had all together. 

As John walked closer to the door of his son's apartment, there was a sound pulsing through his ears which reminded him of the ocean. 

He slowly turned the key in the lock, hoping with every single fibre of his being that Stiles would be on the other side of the door, absorbed in some game on his console and had lost himself in that. 

He puffed out his chest and pushed the door open. 

Everything was still. The main room was completely empty, save for a little goldfish that was swimming around merrily on the side of the kitchen counter. 

He looked over at the sofa and saw a blanket strewn across it. 

The noise in his ears was getting louder. 

"Stiles?" He called out, half way between a whisper and a shout. He scanned around again, calling his son's name, as if he was hoping that Stiles was simply going to appear out of the woodwork. 

Needless to say he didn't. 

He knocked three loud times on the bathroom door and received no answer. He turned the knob and walked into an empty bathroom. 

There were a few towels on the floor and an odd layer of scum the whole way around the bath. 

He noticed a vast amount of hair in the bathroom bin, but he had more important things to worry about than his son's house keeping abilities. 

He walked out of the bathroom, leaving the door wide open behind him. His eyes glued on the bedroom door. 

He needed to be in there. He didn't care what state he was in. He could be asleep after taking copious amounts of drugs and John knew he would only care that his son was there and alive and safe. 

For the moment anyway. 

His prayers started up again, begging God that he'd find his son on the other side of the door. He raised a shaking hand and knocked, three times as loudly as he could. In any other circumstance, John would have realised that his knuckles were now red and sore, but the sheer panic and worry had made him numb. 

He waited for a response, and when none came, he sucked a breath between his teeth and slowly reached for the handle. 

He gently twisted it and pushed it open without stepping a foot inside. 

He registered a presence in the room before he saw anything, and let out the breath that he hadn't even realised he'd been holding. Relief consuming him, making him almost fall to his knees. 

He looked toward the bed, and there laid his son. 

Perfectly safe. 

Perfectly content. 

And lying in the arms of a perfect stranger. 

John frowned. And looked out at into the lounge at the fish. 

So this was actually Derek then. John wasn't stupid and he didn't get to be a sheriff for his unobservant view on life. 

He looked at his son, wrapped around this man. 

Stiles was sound asleep, yet John hadn't seen him look this content and comfortable in... God, he had no idea. 

He saw Stiles' eyes darting around behind his eyelids, and he started to shift in his sleep. The arms of the stranger instantly tightened around him and John heard Stiles let out a sigh and watched as he nuzzled closer to his bed partner. 

So, this wasn't the first time they'd done this then. 

It definitely wasn't a one night stand, which John was thankful for. Nobody wanted to think of their child having sex with strangers. 

No. It was obvious through just seeing them together, even in their unconscious state, that there were feelings running deep there. 

All of a sudden, John felt uncomfortable. He was standing in his son's room, watching as he sleep-snuggled with his boyfriend. Who he'd never even told John about. 

He cleared his throat in the vain hope it would wake his son. They had a lot to talk about. 

He watched as Stiles stirred slightly. He saw his son, once again bury himself into the other man and saw the mans arms tighten around his son. He was now holding Stiles so tightly that a piece of paper could slide between the two of them. 

Any closer and their souls would be one. 

He cleared his throat again and saw his son's body tense up and his eyes fly open. 

They found John in the hallway, and it hit John again just how happy he was that God had answered his prayers once more. His boy was alive, and right in front of him. 

It didn't mean he was being let off the hook for this one though. 

"Hi, Dad."


	8. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. I'm going to aim to get a chapter up every week from now on, but don't hold me to it. 
> 
> However, back to our regularly scheduled STEREK pov's. 
> 
> Also, this is possibly my most favourite chapter on anything that I've written. Ever. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

7 

Stiles carefully shut the bedroom door behind him. He managed it almost silently save for the quiet snick As it closed into place. 

He turned and saw his dad pouring a cup of coffee out, "Will Derek be joining us for coffee?" He asked Stiles without looking at him. 

"No, he needs to sleep more. So I'd appreciate if we can be quiet..." Stiles stopped in his tracks when the words his father had just said sunk in. He'd never told his dad who Derek was. 

The sheriff turned and looked at him with his eyebrows raised. "I'm not stupid, Stiles. I appreciate the fact that you actually went through the trouble to get a fish though." 

He shook his head with a small smile on his lips and took a long sip of his coffee. 

Stiles chose to ignore the fact that his dad was jumping to conclusions, and decided to attend to more pressing matters. 

"Is there a reason why you showed up in my bedroom this morning? I mean, I knew you were coming down today, but I assumed I was going to be meeting you at the airport." 

Truth be told, Stiles was pissed. His dad turning up in his bedroom, seeing Derek and Stiles wrapped around one another. It wasn't fair on Derek that he'd been seen in such an intimate setting. 

The sheriff carefully placed his coffee on the side. 

"When was the last time you watched the news, Son?" 

Stiles looked back at his dad confused, but went with it. "It was on last night, but er... I wasn't really paying attention." 

"Right, so you have no idea about the suspected serial killer on the loose in this city? You had no idea that someone was murdered last night fitting your description?" 

Stiles jerked back. A serial killer? That was impossible. 

"Where's your phone, Stiles?" His dad suddenly barked. 

Stiles winced and looked back at his bedroom door. "Please, Dad, you have to keep it down. Derek needs his rest. I'll explain, but please." He begged. 

The sheriff scoffed, "What I need, Stiles is for you to tell me where your phone is. We'll get onto that topic in a second." 

"I don't know," Stiles said shrugging, "I had it with me on the sofa, but then..." He glanced and his bedroom door, his dad nodding in understanding, the silent plea for no details written all over his face. "I haven't had it with me since." 

"Well, you've got some missed calls from me. Do not let it happen again." 

Stiles instantly recoiled. He hadn't heard his father use that tone of voice since he was in his early teens. He knew how worried his dad was about him in that instant. And he couldn't really blame him,he'd be exactly the same if the role were to be reversed. 

John picked up his coffee and took a long sip, his eyes were closed and the look of bliss that came over him when the liquid touched his lips had Stiles smiling. He really loved his dad, and he felt awful for possibly knocking a couple of years off if his life due to this. 

He waited for the sherif put but his mug back on the side before he tackled him into a hug. 

"I'm sorry, Dad. I should have made sure I had it on me. I'm sorry for making you worry, and not being at the airport when I should've been." He sniffed, "I'm so sorry, Dad." 

John had reached up and was rubbing Stiles' head whilst hugging him back just as tightly. 

John pulled back with a visible tear in his eye. He cleared his throat. "Just make sure it doesn't happen again, okay?" Stiles nodded in reply. "Right, now do you care to explain what exactly is going on here then?" He raised an eyebrow, and Stiles couldn't stop himself from sneaking a smile at his fathers expression. 

Stiles let out a hopeless, dreamy sigh. "Oh, Dad. Where the hell do I begin?" 

 

*** 

Once Stiles had finished he stared at his father, waiting for a reaction. His dad was gazing intently at the carpet between his and Stiles' feet. It was as of it was giving him advice on how to respond to finding out that your son was, essentially keeping a homeless man. 

"You don't know much about his past?" The sheriff asked, finally meeting his son's eyes. 

Stiles sat back on the sofa a little, "No, I don't really think it's my place to ask." 

The sheriff raised both eyebrows at that, "Stiles, you've let the man stay with you, and you don't know why he's homeless?" 

Stiles shook his head, "It doesn't matter. I don't care why he's homeless. Or was, I guess." 

The sheriff looked at him. It was an indescribable look. One that Stiles hadn't received since he was a young, out of control teenager. It was his 'sheriff' look.  
"Was?" He asked innocently. 

"Well, I was going to ask him to stay here. With me." Stiles replied, shoulders sinking into themselves. He felt like he was living at home, being scolded for something that he'd done. 

"Oh." Was all the sheriff responded with, then went back to staring at the carpet. 

Stiles waited for more, when he didn't get any he huffed, stood up and made another cup of coffee. 

Just as he was pouring in the milk, his dad finally replied. "So how long have you been in love with him then?" 

Stiles dropped the carton and watched in shock as the milk glugged out and let all the liquid out. His mouth was hanging open and the only thought that went through his mind was how the milk was never going to go back in there. 

"Stiles?" His dad asked, walking over to him. He sighed, "where's the mop?" 

Together he and his dad cleaned up the spilt milk. Stiles was still dumbfounded by what his dad had said, to the point where he couldn't even make a joke about not crying out it. 

Finally, they sat down with their coffees, the kitchen floor the cleanest it had ever been. They sipped in silence. Stiles still at a loss for words, and John too scared of what would happen to his son if he said anything else. 

John stood and collected the empty coffee cups to take back to the kitchen, all the while Stiles' eyes were locked on his bedroom door. 

His father had taken a couple of steps away when Stiles uttered in a quiet, meek little voice, "I'm pretty sure since the moment I met him." 

Stiles would never know how his dad had closed his eyes at the end of his sentence. How a tidal wave of emotion had overcome him in those few, simple words. It had been exactly the same for him and Claudia, Stiles' mother. Love at first sight. And he still loved her to this day. His heart still belonged to her. And he knew if his son was anything like him, this Derek, was the one for Stiles. He'd never love another. Just like his dad. 

"Then we'd better sort this guy out." Was all he replied. 

 

*** 

 

Derek was in that blissful state, where you're not quite awake, but not quite asleep. He rolled over with a smile spread across his face, reaching for the body beside him. He felt around, and flung out his other arm to no avail. He woke up pretty quickly sitting up in the bed. He hissed in pain at his ribs protesting the sudden movement. 

He shook his head slightly. He remembered last night, of Stiles crawling into bed with him when he asked. They'd talked and eventually snuggled up closer together and Derek, for the longest time that he could remember felt happy. 

He knew that he could've been out on the streets still, but as long as he'd held Stiles in his arms, he would be happy. 

He puzzled as to where the other man could be right now, and started worrying. He knew it was unnecessary, Stiles wouldn't have just left him like this, but a little itch of self doubt and worry was needling it's way in. 

He stood and hobbled out of the bedroom the best he could, still in pain from the bruises. 

He slowly opened the bedroom door and his eyes instantly found the sofa, where an older version of Stiles was sat, his eyes almost bugging out. 

Derek didn't know what to do, so he slammed the door shut and backed away until his legs hit the bed, forcing him to perch in the edge.

A few seconds later, he saw the doorknob twist and Stiles' voice gently ring out the soft melody that was Derek's name. 

He stepped into the room, picking out Derek right away. He shut the door firmly behind him and walked over and knelt in front of Derek. He took his hand and placed the other on Derek's knee. 

"It's just my dad," he breathed. "I forgot he was coming down today." His thumb started tracing circular motions on the back of Derek's hand, and it took every ounce of will power inside Derek's body not to still it by linking hands with the man. 

"I should have told you," Stiles murmured, "I don't want you to be freaked out, or worried when you're here. This is a safe place for you." He met Derek's eyes and sighed. 

All Derek wanted to do in that moment was tell Stiles that if stiles was there, then it would always be a safe place. That he'd never be worried, or freaked out. As long as they were together. He then wanted to take the other mans lips into a kiss and never stop. 

But, instead he nodded. "It is a safe place, I know that, Stiles." He cleared his throat, "I was a little shocked is all," Derek forced a smile on his face, "But I would love to meet your dad." 

The beaming smile that he got in return was simply breath taking. Men would go to wars to see a smile like that. And Derek got the full blow of it. He felt himself leaning forward before he realised what he was doing. 

It was the gentlest of kisses, merely touching his lips to the others, it was so gentle it was barely there. Yet at the touch, Derek felt more aware of his own body than he ever had done. A blast struck through his limbs, he wasn't sure if it was boiling hot or freezing cold. His stomach felt hollow all of a sudden, as if it were entirely empty and the only way he'd feel full again, was to get as many kisses from this man as he could. And he'd never noticed his heart so much. He heard it pumping in his ears, felt it pounded in his chest. All for this man. 

It couldn't have lasted any more than a second or two, but Derek knew that it would be the last of his first kisses. 

He looked at Stiles who now had a hand touched to his lips, with all the hairs in his arms visibly standing on end. A little "oh" escaped his mouth and he looked back at Derek. 

His eyes were positively sparkling and Derek had never seen him look so happy. He pulled the hand away from his face and placed it on the side of Derek's face. He touched their foreheads together and closed his eyes. A small smile playing on his lips the entire time. 

"Derek," he whispered and Derek responded by nuzzling into his hand. 

Just as the pair were about to kiss again, there was a firm knock at the door. 

"Stiles?" It called, "I thought we were taking Derek shopping." 

The pair looked at each other, smiling stupidly and basking in the warmth between them.


	9. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So very sorry for the late update.  
> Between writer's block, work, a little break and moving house I've had no time!  
> Finished this seconds ago, (literally) so there's a chance for some incredibly obvious typo's! Sorry!  
> However. I am now starting the next chapter right now. The muse has struck me, and I'm not letting her escape this time!  
> Also, a massive thank you to everyone who has read, bookmarked, commented and left kudos. You are all beautiful, wonderful people who help encourage me, not just with this, but with my dream of becoming an actual author.  
> So yeah... Thank you! :)

8 

"We need to talk about this," Stiles whispered into the stillness between them. "But right now I need to introduce you to my Dad." He felt Derek give a slight nod against his head. 

Stiles stood and reached out a hand to Derek. Derek looked at it for a second, then tentatively placed his hand into Stiles' linking their fingers together. They smiled at one another again, and Stiles knew this was definitely the start of something. 

He led Derek out of the bedroom to the little lounge where his father was standing, looking out of the window at the city below. He turned at the sound of the door and raised one eyebrow when he spotted their clasped hands. Stiles sent a silent prayer that he wouldn't say anything about it. He didn't want his dad to scare Derek any more than he already had. 

"So you're Derek?" The sheriff asked. 

"Yes, Sir." 

"And you're not a goldfish." 

Stiles wanted to hit himself in the face at that, whilst Derek let out a surprising bark of laughter. 

"No, Sir. Not the last time I checked." 

The sheriff hummed in reply. "Stiles told me you're staying with him, indefinitely." 

Stiles shot his father a look. He hadn't technically said that, and hadn't even broached the subject of it to Derek yet. Derek was looking between him and his father. "Um, I guess so..?" He replied, and this time Stiles did grab his face in response. This was not how he had planned talking to Derek about it. 

"Well, the good news about you not being a fish is buying you some clothes. If you can detach yourself from my son long enough to get ready I'll take you two out and get you sorted." When Derek didn't make a move or respond, probably due to being struck dumb by the sheriff he had the typical parental order to, "chop, chop." Clapping hands and all. 

Stiles couldn't stop the ridiculous grin from erupting as he watched Derek head to the bathroom.

This morning had been, with a doubt, practically perfect. 

*** 

Derek slid into the booth, bags under his feet. When Mr. Stilinski had said they were going shopping, he hadn't anticipated the sheer volume of items they would be buying. 

Or rather, Stiles and his father old be buying. For Derek. He hung his head a little. This wasn't fair on them, he had contributed nothing. They were both such wonderful humans for doing this, but did Derek really deserve it? Did he really deserve Stiles? 

He knew that the answer was a straight up no. But he wanted to be selfish and cling on to this man for as long as Stiles was willing to have him. 

Derek let out an embarrassingly large and loud yawn. He wasn't used to all the psychical activity. 

He looked over at Stiles and the sheriff who were stood at the counter, paying for the food. A thick blanket of shame wrapped itself around him. 

He couldn't even think about how much they must have spent on him this day. He hated to feel like a charity case, but this was different. They were setting him up to start over. They were giving him a second chance at life. 

Derek was startled from his thoughts by Stiles putting his drink in front of him. They had another hour yet until they were due at the doctors, to see what supplements Derek needed to go on to help get him back to healthy weight, and if they was anything they could do regarding all the damage that Derek's body had suffered through at the hands of that man. 

"You okay?" Stiles asked quietly. 

Derek wasn't sure how to answer. In one way he'd never been more okay, and in another he was less okay than ever. 

He fixed a smile on his face and muttered a small "of course." 

The smile he got in return made his heart flip and his stomach sink. He cared so much about Stiles. Was completely and utterly in love with the man. But he knew Stiles needed someone better then him. 

He deserved someone who had a house, and a job, and could defend himself and Stiles. Who would protect him, both psychically and emotionally. Who wasn't broken for so many reasons. 

He looked into his drink. He knew he was going to have to have an incredibly long think about what he wanted and what he could bare to put the love of his life through. 

*** 

Stiles was anxiously sat in the waiting room whilst Derek was having his consultation with the doctor. 

He knew something was bothering the man, but couldn't decipher what it was. His mind kept replaying the kiss, and wondering if Derek regretted it or not. Though in his heart of hearts, he knew it couldn't be the case. There was the same amount of emotion from Derek as Stiles entwined in that kiss. He knew they were on the same page. 

His dad had gone above and beyond in getting Derek kitted out with everything. And he knew just what he was doing and Stiles had never been so thankful to have such an amazing person for a father. 

The sheriff was currently sitting in the coffee house that Stiles first met Derek outside of. They were going to meet him there once they'd finished at the doctors. 

Stiles pulled his phone out of his pocket to distract himself from the carousel of negative thoughts making circles in his head and started a game of 'Bubble Cat' 

He had just passed the level he'd been stuck on fr a few days when someone cleared their throat above him. He looked up and his breath caught. 

God, he kept forgetting how beautiful Derek was. 

He jumped up and touched Derek's cheek. The other instantly nuzzled into the touch, relaxing Stiles a bit. "Is everything okay?" Stiles asked, quietly. "What did the doctor say?" 

Derek didn't reply, just pushed a prescription into Stiles' other hand. 

"Okay," stiles murmured, looking at the piece of paper, "I can get this for you. No problem." He smiled up at Derek and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. He started to panic, thinking he'd over stepped the mark, as this thing between them was so fresh and new, but when he looked at Derek he found his worries to be futile. It was the first real smile on the mans face since they'd left the apartment that morning. 

Derek licked his lips in reply, and gently stroked his thumb over stiles' cheek, staring at him intently. It was almost like he was memorising each individual pore of Stiles' face. 

"Wanna go to the coffee shop?" 

Derek nodded in reply, and stepped away. Stiles grabbed his hand, never letting him get too far. Letting him know that Stiles was right there, beside him. 

*** 

Derek was in the toilet at the coffee shop. Hands clutching each side of the sink, dragging deep breaths through his mouth. 

He knew it.

He knew that being with Stiles was wrong. 

As much as he wanted him and loved him, he knew that right now, he was no good for him. 

He was nothing but a homeless, hopeless, loser. Who was going no where and had to rely on his... His Stiles to scrape him off the ground, out of the gutter and try to make him resemble a human again. 

He thought if seeing Stiles interact with the guy behind the counter. He could see how perfect they would be for one another. Both in jobs, both finished school. Neither ever having to worry where their next meal would be coming from, or even if they would wake to see the next day. 

No. Stiles deserved someone like that. Not someone who had the weight of the world on their shoulders. Not someone who deserved to be out on the streets as form of punishment for what they did. 

Stiles didn't need to fix someone in order to be with them. He needed someone who was already whole. 

Derek looked at his reflection. 

He wasn't that person. 

He peeked out of the door at Stiles and his father talking about the recent murders. It had been a hot topic between the two all day. 

Derek looked at the younger man, his eyes alight with passion. His hands gesturing in a hypnotic rhythm. 

No. Stiles deserved the best, because he was without a doubt, the most perfect being on this earth. Derek let the door ease shut as his eyes welled with tears.

And Derek was nowhere near good enough for him. 

Yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *shields self in blanket*


	10. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Pretty long hiatus.   
> I've been going through some pretty rough stuff recently, as well as starting uni again, so I am so incredibly sorry about the long wait!   
> It's not a very long chapter this time, but I wanted to get it out as soon as I could, so here it is...

9 

"He's been a while in there, Son. Think you should check on him?" The sheriff asked his son. 

 

Stiles turned to look at him, from where his eyes had been glued to the bathroom door. His dad had finally voiced what he'd been thinking for a while. 

 

"Yeah..." He replied, dragging out the word. 

 

His eyes sprang back to the bathroom door. He hadn't seen Derek come out, so he must still be in there. "I'll be right back," he muttered to his dad and pushed himself out of his seat. 

 

He slowly pushed the door open, terrified that the other man wasn't going to be on the other side. "Derek?" He called tentatively. 

 

Derek was stood over the sink, his face red, eyes puffy. He'd obviously been crying, and though every instinct in Stiles begged him to rush over to the other, something held him back. 

 

"I can't," Derek's voice croaked. He cleared his throat and said again, with more conviction, "I can't, Stiles." 

 

Stiles felt a block of if settle somewhere between his chest and the bottom of his stomach. "What? What do you mean, Derek?" 

 

The other wouldn't meet his gaze, just stared into the sink which he had a white knuckled grasp on. "I can't do this. Whatever this is, or was going to be." 

 

A buzzing noise started in Stiles' head, his body flooding with panic. He couldn't understand what was happening. This morning had been as close to perfect as he could imagine. What had happened in between then and now to change Derek's mind? He'd been the one to initiate the kiss. 

 

"No." Stiles gritted out. He met Derek's shocked gaze in the mirror. "No, Derek." Derek finally turned around to look at him. "I am not letting you do this. Not to me or yourself. We said we were going to talk about this all later, and now you're not even willing to let us have a 'later'? No." He said, shaking his head, keeping his eyes locked on to Derek's. 

 

"You deserve better than me, Stiles." Came the meek reply, which only infuriated Stiles. 

 

"Why?" He asked, putting his best impression of Erica's bitch face on. There was an achingly long pause, "Why?!" He repeated, getting louder. 

 

"Look at me!" Derek replied, equally loud. "I have nothing, Stiles. I can't even tell you the last time I slept in a warm bed, or ate a hot meal, or had a worry free night or day until you gave them to me. I have no job, no home, no friends, no... No family. Nothing. Why do you want to be with someone like that. I hardly even have a backbone right now. I'm nothing, Stiles." 

 

"Are you serious?" Stiles asked, stunned. Derek's reply was to, once again turn away. "Derek..." Stiles took a few steps closer and grabbed Derek's hand. "You have so much. You have, without a shadow of a doubt the kindest heart I've ever come across, you have a beautiful soul. You still have the ability to laugh and make jokes, even with all you've been through. You have such..." He took a breath to calm himself as tears were threatening to spill at this point. "Such courage and strength and determination. You're still fighting everyday. The fact that you're still alive and carrying on through a pretty, fucking shitty situation is amazing." He stepped even closer then, feeling the older mans breath on his cheek. "And, you have me. And I'm not letting you go. No way. You're too good to let some other guy snatch you up. I'll never find someone like you again, Derek." 

 

Derek was letting the tears run unashamedly down his face now. "You can't understand," he whispered. 

 

"Then help me to," Stiles pleaded. 

 

Derek pulled away from him and grabbed at his own head. "Until you came along I knew no one would give a damn if I turned up dead. Nobody would know who I was, where I came from. Anything. And that was the way it was supposed to be. I wasn't supposed to have friends, or anything anymore. Not after what I did. And then you showed up, with your stupidly beautiful face, your kind eyes and warm smile and cup of coffee.   
"Something changed that first day. I suddenly had a name again, and slowly I became someone again. But I am still that person, Stiles. I am still the stinking, homeless, good for nothing, Bum, who spends his life hanging in an alley way. Sure, you and your dad have been wonderful today. Buying me clothes, taking me to the doctors.   
"And you, God you. You have no idea what you've done for me. You've made me want to live my life again. You washed me, looked after me, helped me when I needed it more than ever, but... But it's all like I'm wearing a mask. I can't let you pick me out of the gutter, Stiles. I need to be my own hero. I need to help myself, and then I'll maybe be worthy of being with you. But even then, I've still got other sins to atone for. And I don't want to be the one to drag you through the dirt with me.   
"You have the purest soul of anyone I've ever met or even heard about, and it can't be the one to tarnish that. I won't. I care... I love you too much for that."   
Derek let out a long sigh, "and that is why I can't." 

 

He pushed past Stiles and rushed out of the bathroom, leaving the other stood with his mouth half open in shock. It wasn't until the door banged closed that he was jolted back into the present and flew after Derek. 

 

"Derek!" He screamed, and everyone and everything went silent around him, all eyes in his direction, except the ones that he most desperately wanted. They were facing the main door. Watching their escape. "Don't you dare." He yelled. "Don't you _fucking_ dare." He walked up to him, ignoring the angry, questioning and slightly amused look from his father. "If you even think about walking out of that God damned door, I will personally kill you. I mean it." He threatened. 

 

He took a few long strides closer, but still not close enough. "If you honestly think that I'm going to let you walk out of here, walk out on me, then you are sorely mistaken. After everything we just said to each other, you think I'll let you? No." He shook his head, "No. We belong with each other, Derek. And I don't care if you, for some twisted reason, think I deserve better, you're wrong. So wrong. I love you. You're mine, just as much as I'm yours." 

 

"Boys." The sheriff said in a bellowing voice, grabbing both of their attention instantly. "I think it's time to carry this on at home. Don't you?" 

 

Stiles turned back to Derek. "Only if he's willing to come too, so we can talk about all of this." He took another step closer, addressing Derek now. "If you walk out those doors, I'm following you. And for as long as you don't go home, neither will I." 

 

Derek let a small smile play on his lips. "That's manipulation." He stated. 

 

"If that's what it takes..." Stiles shrugged in reply. 

 

Derek pushed the door open, and Stiles' heart jumped into his throat. Derek then turned his head, looked back at Stiles and simply said, "you coming then?" The next thing Stiles knew, his lips were on Derek's, hand on his face, breathing out a small 'thank you'. 

 

*** 

 

The sheriff had decided to finish his drink at the coffee shop to give the pair a little time to talk amongst themselves, and Stiles had never been more thankful to his dad. He'd travelled all this way to spend time with Stiles, and Stiles had just left him there, sipping his coffee, whilst he tries to sort out what he knows will be the best thing to ever happen to him. Whilst he tries to sort out his forever. 

 

However, he still planned on buying his dad an obnoxiously large present of some sort to thank him for being so understanding. And for being, pretty much the best father anyone could hope for. 

 

"You did mean what you said, didn't you?" Stiles asked as soon as his door shut. He and Derek hadn't said a single work the entire walk back, but the tension was heavy in the air between them. 

 

"Every word." Derek whispered. 

 

Stiles closed his eyes and let it sink in. Derek loved him. Derek was in love with him. And Stiles was in love with Derek. Surely this should be easier? 

 

"You know you're full of shit, right?" 

 

Derek reared back at that, a surprised expression flashing on his face, followed closely by betrayal and hurt. 

 

"Needing to be your own hero? I understand that, Derek. But it doesn't stop me from being furious with you. I know that you feel as though you're not contributing anything, or whatever... But you are! I was so lonely, so... Gah!" He flung his arms in frustration,   
"I was alone, I went to work, came home, messed about here, maybe Skype my dad or Scott and then went to bed. And that was it. That was my life. Now I've been talking to people at the office more, I'm not afraid to ask them for a drink after work and I talk to Isaac from the coffee place all the time."

 

He noticed Derek's expression at the last sentence and filed it away for later. "And it's because of you. Meeting you, getting to know you handmade me realise that I can talk to other people. I don't always have to worry about saying the wrong thing, that people, other than the ones I've known my whole life, might actually like me..." He shrugged. "And that's because of you, Derek." He walked over to the other man, and wrapped his arms around his waist. "You made me realise that. So you have done something for me, don't you ever doubt that.   
"A partnership is equal, Derek. It's doing things for each other, it's helping each other in any way you can. Because you love them, and want to see them be the best they can be, not for you, but for themselves. And I want that. I want a partnership with you. I want everything.   
"But the question is Derek, do you?" 

 

Stiles didn't get a verbal reply to his question. Instead he had a pair of lips, the only ones he ever wanted to touch his again, crash onto his. 

 

He easterly kissed back, letting every drop of emotion bleed through, muttering confessions of love between every, single one. Gradually he found that they were migrating toward the bedroom, and he wasn't going to complain about that. Not one little bit. 

 

Derek fumbled for the door handle, refusing the release Stiles' lips from his. Eventually he got it and the stumbled their way in. Stiles guided Derek backwards onto the bed and looked down at him. "Are you sure you want to do this?" 

 

"Stiles," Derek replied, stroking the others face, "I've wanted this since I read the name you put on my coffee cup the first time." 

 

Stiles couldn't keep his mouth off of Derek's after that. He kissed him again, but it developed into something... More? More tender and gentle. It held every ounce of love one had for the other in it. And it was perfection. 

 

Stiles gently undressed Derek, whilst Derek tenderly returned the favour.


End file.
